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text 2018-09-07 17:10
Excerpt Reveal - Big Stick

 

 

Excerpt Reveal – BIG STICK by R.C. Stephens

 

About the Book:

 

Hockey is my life. And it’s a great one. There’s an endless line of women, and I get to hang with my best friend Oli. Everything is perfect until she shows up. Oli’s twin sister, Flynn...hates my guts. I don’t blame her. I’m part of one of the worst nights of her life. 

Now she’s next door and seeing her every day is killing me slowly. I wonder if we can ever get back to being friends. The way she looks at me sometimes, well, let’s just say my hockey stick isn’t the only thing that’s feeling hard these days. 

But if she finds out the secrets I’m keeping, forgiveness will be the last thing on her mind. 

 

Purchase Link: https://entangledpublishing.com/big-stick.html

 

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40518491-big-stick

 

 

 

 

Excerpt from BIG STICK:

 

He takes a step toward me, and a charge of electricity runs through my body. Myles wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into him. His stare heats my whole body. I don’t know why my hand, which is still in a mitten, comes up to caress his face, other than I need to touch him.

 

 

“Do you remember the time we went tobogganing?” he asks out of nowhere. His voice is raspy and filled with longing.

 

“There were many times. You may want to specify,” I answer, a hint of my previous laughter still lacing my tone.

 

“It was in ninth grade, and I was home for Christmas break,” he says and cuts me such a hot glare that I know exactly what he’s talking about. We had gone out that day on our own, since Oli was home sick. I begin to see a pattern I’m only noticing now. It was at times that my brother wasn’t around that Myles and I got into these heated situations.

 

Kind of like now.

 

“We went down a hill on the toboggan, and I thought it would be fun to give us a little spin along the way, and we ended up wiping out, and I landed on top of you,” Myles says, his breath ragged and his eyes trained on mine. My lips ache to touch his, and judging by his searing gaze, I know he wants it, too.

 

I nod and swallow.

 

“I wanted to kiss the hell out of you that day. I want to kiss the hell out of you now.” His face moves closer to mine. I nod, and before I can remember where we are and what we are doing, his lips press to mine. His warm skin makes my body want to combust. He wraps his arms around my back, and I wrap my arms around his head, and our lips mesh together, our mouths open as our tongues tease and taste. I want him to touch me all over, kiss me, love me, but the voices that were background noise only moments ago come to the forefront of my mind, and I hear them more closely now. We aren’t alone. Our kiss slows, and he presses his forehead to mine as we take a few breaths to gather ourselves. To tuck the unbridled heat away. This, too, is becoming a familiar motion. He presses a kiss to the top of my head. The gesture is warm as he holds me close. He

releases me and looks down at me.


“That day, when I didn’t kiss you, I told you that you couldn’t be a lost boy anymore. You had to be Tinker Bell.” He smiles.

 

“That was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to me,” I answer, a little breathless. But the sarcasm in my tone dominates.

 

“I should get points for that, right?” He chuckles. “You became my Tink that day.” He takes my hand. I don’t answer him, but in my head, I agree with what he’s said. We reach the entrance to the coffee shop. “You want to get that drink?”

 

I take a breath. I don’t know why I feel like I am holding my breath around him.

“Yes,” I answer, and he guides us toward the restaurant.

 

We are seated at a table for two off to the side. The lights in the restaurant provide a romantic glow. We order hot chocolate. I take the warm mug in my hands and watch the little marshmallows float on top. Myles is quiet. One look at him tells me he’s gone inside his head.

 

“In some ways this feels like déjà vu,” I say a little hesitantly. He’s been making an effort with me. Trying to break me out of my shell. Now it’s him who’s withdrawn into his shell.

 

“We spent a lot of time together growing up. We’re bound to have lots of these moments,” he says.

 

“What are you thinking now?” I ask. For the last seven years I’ve had a picture in my mind of how things would be if I ever saw him again. Only now it looks nothing how I pictured things would be. Seeing him reminds me of what I lost. I figured the feelings I once had for him were gone but they aren’t. My feelings are very real and overwhelming.

 

“I want you so bad it physically hurts, but inside here”— he touches his chest where his heart is—“I don’t think I’d be any better at caring for other people than my father, and that scares me to death. I can’t date you because I want all in with you.”

 

 

About R.C. Stephens:

 

As far back as R.C. Stephens can remember she was a sucker for a good romance. Of course there had to be a prince charming even if he ultimately was a dark knight and there had to be a happy ending. She watched the movie Dirty Dancing way too many times growing up and Jean Claude Van Damme movies too. Go figure! After years of saying she would write a book one day, she finally put pen to paper and carved out the plot line for what would eventually become the best selling Twisted Series. Now R.C. is just finishing up her tenth book and can’t seem to stop the stories running through her mind. Visit R.C. on her Facebook page to find out what’s new in her life and what releases she has coming up.

 

R.C. Stephens Media Links:

 

Author Website: http://www.rcstephens.com

Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/rcstephensbooks

Author Facebook: https://business.facebook.com/rc.stephens.8/?business_id=166735473993166

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rc_stephens_author/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1508701.R_C_Stephens

Newsletter: http://rcstephens.com/newsletter/

 

Giveaway:

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/1cb554951281/?

 

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text 2018-08-17 08:05
Cover & Excerpt Reveal - Unwritten Law

Release Date: September 5, 2018

Cover Design: Angsty G

 

Synopsis:

 

Being an identical twin doesn’t come without issues. 

 

No one can tell us apart, not even our parents sometimes. We don’t usually use that to our advantage, but it comes in handy when my brother needs help breaking up with his boyfriends—which happens more than I’d care to admit. I know it’s enabling him, but I can’t say no to Anders. I will do anything for my twin. The breakups always go the same; they’re swift and simple.

 

Until Reed.

 

He’s everything I've fantasised about but never allowed myself to have. When I give in to temptation and begin to freak out, it’s not because he’s a guy. It’s because he thinks I’m my brother, and I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth.  

 

Goodreads

 

 

 

 

Excerpt:

 

 

LAWSON

 

I’m going to come clean. That’s the plan as I enter Reed’s building and head up to the second floor. I’ll lay it all out there and tell him everything:

 

I was the one he hooked up with.
 
It’s me he’s been texting.
 
I’m not straight. I’m bi.
 
I want no strings attached sex with him while I figure this whole thing out.
 
I am not my brother and never have been …
 
But then he’s going to ask why, and the only response I’ll have is because of reasons I can’t say. Fuck. This isn’t going to work. He’ll want to know why I was the one who turned up for their date and not Anders. I won’t betray my brother like that.
 
Oh, so pretending to be him is okay, but telling someone Anders was almost killed is crossing a line?
 
“Shit,” I hiss under my breath and lean against Reed’s doorjamb.
Damn, hardwood floors and long corridors make noise travel. Before I know it, and before I have time to retreat, Reed’s door flies open.
 
There he stands, wearing a lime-green polo shirt and jeans, looking hot enough to fuck, and my mouth decides it’s not time to cooperate.
 
Tell him.
 
Reed steps forward and yanks me into his apartment, closing the door with a slam. Fisting my shirt, he pulls me against him. For a small window, I think he knows it’s me and not Anders. It’s as if all the things I need to say are understood without me having to open my mouth. Wishful thinking, obviously, because when he closes his mouth over mine, I’m no longer able to tell him anything. And when he murmurs, “Thank fuck, you changed your mind,” I know my delusion isn’t real. He still thinks I’m Anders, and I’m going to let him continue to think it.
 
I’ve never understood people who cheat on a partner until now. While this isn’t cheating, it is wrong, and I thought my conscience would be yelling at me to stop. Never have I been able to turn off that side of my brain, but as Reed’s tongue pushes into my mouth, there’s nothing but him and me and the promise of everything I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember.
 
With women, I’ve always been the dominant one—the one in control—but right now, I’m ready to throw every ounce of restraint out the window. Reed can take it all.
 
“I want you to fuck me,” he says against my lips.
 
The command has my balls tightening. “O-okay.” I sound unsure—too unsure.
 
Reed pulls back. “You down for that? I mean, I could go either way if you prefer … I’m an equal opportunist.” He winks.
 
I grab his hips and bring him against me, determined not to let this opportunity pass me by because of nerves. “I want to fuck you, but you have to do something for me.”
 
“What’s that?” Reed smirks.
 
“I need you to tell me exactly what you like.”
 
He leans in, his smile never wavering, and whispers, “Everything.”
 
“Get specific. Tell me what you want me to do. And use your teacher voice.”
 
“You have a teacher fantasy?” Reed’s eyes glimmer.
 
“If I do?” I don’t really, but this could be a fun way to learn a few tricks. And if Reed finds it weird that Anders has a teacher fetish when his twin brother is one, he doesn’t say anything. Thankfully.
 
“You better get to work by undressing me.” Reed’s voice is exactly what I want. Rough, confident, and so damn hot.
 
I reach for the hem of his shirt, but before I can lift it off him, he stops me.
 
“Slowly.”
 
I grin. I could so get into this game.

   

 

 

Giveaway:

One of Five ARC's for Unwritten Law

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

 

 

 

 

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b1257f8d349/?

 

 

 

 

About the Author:

 

Eden Finley is an Amazon bestselling author who writes steamy contemporary romances that are full of snark and light-hearted fluff. 

 

She doesn’t take anything too seriously and lives to create an escape from real life for her readers. The ideas always begin with a wackadoodle premise, and she does her best to turn them into romances with heart. With a short attention span that rivals her five-year-old son's, she writes multiple different pairings: MM, MMF, and MF.  She's also an Australian girl and apologises for her Australianisms that sometimes don't make sense to anyone else.  

 

Connect with Eden:

 

Newsletter Sign Up: http://bit.ly/2owAsgY

Facebook Author Page: http://bit.ly/2GMjfag

Facebook Reader Group: http://bit.ly/2t1KqM4

Goodreads Author Page: http://bit.ly/2ouFzya

Twitter: http://bit.ly/2HQnyCv

Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/2EV9Roi

BookBub Author Page: http://bit.ly/2ouhBDq

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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text 2018-06-29 08:05
Excerpt Reveal - The Protector

 

Today we have the excerpt blitz for The Protector by HelenKay Dimon! Check it out and preorder your copy today!

 

 

 

Title: The Protector

Author: HelenKay Dimon

Genre Romantic Suspense

Release Date: July 31st!

 

 

About The Protector:

 

Salvation, Pennsylvania. The commune located in the small town was advertised as a modern Utopia: a place to live, share, and learn with other like-minded young people. Cate Pendleton’s sister was one of them. Now she’s dead—and Cate won’t rest until she finds out who killed her. Stonewalled at every turn, she approaches a DC Fixer for help and ends up with Damon Knox, a mysterious man with a secretive past. But Cate soon discovers that she not only needs Damon, she wants him, which isn’t good—for the attraction brewing between them will only lead to complications that can turn into danger . . .  

 

Damon has tried to erase the hellish memories and the evil that happened in Salvation ever since he left a long time ago. Still, he can’t turn his back on Cate. As Damon works with Cate to uncover her sister’s killer, he finds himself drawn to her more and more. But how will she feel about him when she learns about his connection to the place?  

 

Joining forces to uncover the truth, they must stay one step ahead of a cunning killer who’s bent on not being exposed.    

 

Preorder Your Copy Now:

 

 

The Protector:

Kindle | Nook | iBooks | Google Play | Kobo | Avon Digital

 

Exclusive Excerpt:

 

He appreciated every inch of her, including that big brain that she didn’t hesitate to use to best him whenever possible. That was some pretty sexy shit right there.

 

“Are you not a meat eater? Because that’s something I should know up front.” The kind of thing Wren should put in her file. Damon didn’t think that was too much to ask.

 

As predicted she frowned at him. Shot him one of those you’re-wasting-time looks that she’d been using on him nonstop since they met. “Are you serious right now?”

 

“Because I eat a lot of burgers and if that’s going to offend you, I can eat something else. I won’t like it, but I will.” Her fidgeting must be rubbing off on him because he picked up his fork then set it down again.

 

She leaned across the table. “How many burgers?”

 

Now this was a topic he could handle. Especially since she asked the question in a soft voice, as if they were sharing a secret. “Every day.”

 

She sat back hard in her seat again. “You do not eat a hamburger every day.”

 

He ignored the horror in her voice. “True. Some days I mix it up and order a cheeseburger. If I’m feeling particularly frisky I’ll have a steak sandwich.”

 

“That seems like an invitation to heart disease.” And she was back to shifting around. She crossed and uncrossed her arms before she grabbed for her napkin again.

 

He could not stop watching her. Energy buzzed off her. He found the mix of tough talk and nervous fidgeting unexpectedly hot. “You’d think, but no.”

 

“I’m going to pretend you’re kidding.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

She cleared her throat. “Shauna.”

 

They could circle back to food because she had his attention now. He refused to joke about this topic. “Your sister.”

 

“She’s three years older.”

 

He noticed she didn’t use the past tense. Shauna died ten years ago and Cate still saw her as an “is.” For Damon, that meant treading carefully. “And you are . . . ?”

 

“Twenty-nine.”

 

He knew that answer before she said but thought keeping her to facts might help her emotionally wade through the next part. He’d helped Wren with other cases and this piece—dealing with the grief—never got easier. Damon had a load of grief and guilt of his own piled on top of hers, so he got it.

 

He nodded to her. “Go ahead.”

 

“The questions you ask don’t seem that pertinent.”

 

“I’m going to be honest with you.” He started to lean forward when the waiter came by and dropped off their food. The smell of grilled hamburger filled his senses as he reached for his folded napkin and threw it across his lap.

 

She didn’t move. “That would be a good way to start.”

 

“Wren already gave me a file he had on you. The man is an expert at collecting information and then making Garrett put it together in a nice big, easy-to-understand breakdown of what happened and when.”

 

For a few seconds she sat there, quiet, as her gaze moved over his face, studying him. “Then why are we here doing the get-to-know-you thing?”

 

He popped a french fry in his mouth. “I’m hungry. That happens a lot. The need-to-eat thing. So, you’ll need to get used to it.”

 

 

Catch Up On the Series!

 

 

The Fixer:

Kindle | Nook | iBooks | Google Play | Kobo | Avon Digital

 

The Enforcer:

Kindle | Nook | iBooks | Google Play | Kobo | Avon Digital

 

The Negotiator:

Kindle | Nook | iBooks | Google Play | Kobo | Avon Digital

 

The Pretender:

Kindle | Nook | iBooks | Google Play | Kobo | Avon Digital

       

About HelenKay Dimon:

 

HelenKay Dimon spent the years before becoming a romance author as a...divorce attorney. Not the usual transition, she knows. Good news is she now writes full time and is much happier. She has sold over forty novels and novellas to numerous publishers, including HarperCollins, Kensington, Harlequin, Penguin Random House, Riptide and Carina Press. Her nationally bestselling and award-winning books have been showcased in numerous venues and her books have twice been named "Red-Hot Reads" and excerpted in Cosmopolitan magazine. She is on the Board of Directors of the Romance Writers of America and teaches fiction writing at UC San Diego and MiraCosta College. You can learn more at her website: www.HelenKaydimon.com

 

Connect with HelenKay:

 

Twitter | FB page | Tumblr | Instagram | Pinterest

       

 

 

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text 2018-03-08 15:10
Excerpt Reveal - Two Wedding Crashers

 

 

 

 

Well, that’s not entirely true, but I’m going to tell you a little secret: I’ve lost the spark.

 

You know the kind of spark I’m talking about?

 

Where butterflies take flight in your stomach from two hands innocently colliding. Or catching your breath when you first meet someone attractive. Yeah, that spark.

 

Except I haven't felt that feeling in forever; there is nothing left inside of me.

 

Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem--but I’m a writer on a serious deadline, and my editor is breathing down my neck for a romantic, Nicholas Sparks type love story. No pressure, right?

 

That's how I find myself flying across the country to crash a wedding in the name of research, dress and heels stuffed into my small suitcase.

 

It should be the easiest book research ever. Drinking some free champagne, basking in the love of two strangers, and tapping into my romantic side. That will be a breeze. I'm a pro. I can handle this.

 

Until I mistakenly end up in the wrong hotel room, naked as the day I was born, with the sexiest human I have ever met staring me down, wondering what I'm doing taking a shower in his bathroom. I don't think calling it research will get me out of this pickle.

 

ADD TO GOODREADS

 

 

PRE-ORDER NOW:

AMAZON US | AMAZON UK |

AMAZON CA | AMAZON AU

   

 
 

EXCERPT:

 

Crystal-blue ocean shines below me, and if I wasn’t so scared of Zoey and her repercussions for being late, I would take the time to appreciate Mother Nature. Instead I hurry into my room, flop my suitcase on my bed, unzip it, and grab my toiletries.

 

Not taking a second longer, I strip down, leaving my gross airplane clothes on the floor, and practically skip to the shower where I stop mid stride.

 

In the shower stall is a black razor, with accompanying shaving cream. That’s odd. Is that courtesy of the hotel? This place is fancy, but not that fancy. Spinning on my heel, I turn toward the sink behind me and spot a white and green toothbrush, tube of toothpaste, and men’s cologne. Shit, turning toward the room, my eyes frantically roam the space, spotting a black suitcase in the corner.

 

Shit, shit, shit.

 

Naked, I cover my breasts with my arm and open the closet door only to come face to face with a few hung-up shirts.

 

Yup . . . I’m in someone else’s fucking room.

 

And whoever this room belongs to is the neatest person ever because who honestly lines up there toothbrush and toothpaste tube perfectly on the counter?

 

Reaching for the phone, I call down to the front desk.

 

“Mr. Wilder, how can we assist you?” Oh yeah, totally not in the correct room.

 

“Uh, yeah, hi, this is Rylee Ryan. I just checked in. I was given the key to room 625 and it seems to be occupied.”

 

“Oh dear, let me check.” There is a pause on the phone and then the lady comes on the line again. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss. Ryan. We have you in room 626. Would you like to come down here and grab a new key?”

 

Is she kidding? The trek it took to get over here ate up enough of my time. I can’t possibly take a shower if I have to run back to the lobby, grab a key, and run all the way back here.

 

“Would you mind bringing it to room 625? I have dinner plans and have to get changed.”

 

“Oh, of course. I’ll send someone up with a key right away.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

I hop around naked, eyeing my pukey clothes on the floor and the shower in the other room. Twisting my lip to the side, I try to decide what to do. I can be super quick, like really fucking quick. I just need to scrub the puke and throw on a dress, simple. Two minutes tops. The water doesn’t even have to be warm. I’ll write a polite note to Mr. Wilder—whoever that is—leave him five dollars as a kind gesture and quietly leave. No problem with that. Right?

 

Right.

 

Turning on the shower, I hop in before the water can warm up and hiss from the frosty temperature. I douse soap all over my hands and scrub my neck and body vigorously first, which normally I would wash my hair first but . . . puke. Once I’m satisfied with the amount of scrubbing, I wash my hair, condition it in a minute, do one more soap scrubbing all over my body before rinsing and turning the shower off. Two minutes.
Just in case Mr. Wilder is sitting outside the bathroom, I peek my head out the door, towel wrapped around my body, and call out, “Hello?”

 

When there is no response, I check that the coast is clear then strut to my suitcase and find a simple black sundress. Not bothering to look for underwear or a bra—I really don’t need one with my perky B-cups—I lay out my dress and dry off.

 

Hopefully Mr. Wilder doesn’t mind me using one of his towels or his room for that matter. He’s probably some old dude away on his golfing vacation. I hope I don’t give him a heart attack.

 

I drape my towel over the bed and run my hands through my naturally wavy, black hair. This will have to do. Picking up my towel one more time, I scrunch my hair, trying to soak up all the water just as the hotel door swings open, light blaring through, a tall, dark silhouette shadowed in the doorframe.

 

I still, frozen from the tips of my toes to the hand scrunching a towel in my hair.
Toned calves and legs are covered by black board shorts, slick to his thighs, a bulge prominent. Narrow waist where his board shorts ride low on his hips, a black shirt dancing across his broad chest, cinching sleeves cuffed over his biceps, and a V-neck providing a glimpse of how far his tan extends. Head cast down, eyes transfixed on his phone in front of him, he doesn’t notice the naked girl standing in the middle of his hotel room. He stuffs his keycard in his back pocket and looks up, startled.

 

I scream.

 

He grumbles something unintelligible as I point out the obvious. “Ahhh, my boobs are naked!” It might be a little concerning that I consider my boobs to be the only things naked at this point.

 

As quickly as I can, I cover my body, towel making a poor attempt to hide my girly bits.
The man turns away, covering his eyes with his arm while muttering, “Oh shit.”

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I ask, struggling with my towel. I know damn well the man in front of me must be Mr. Wilder, and this is in fact his room, and I’m the one intruding, but I still feel the need to place the blame on him for walking in on me naked.

 

“Grabbing my sunglasses,” he says, his voice terrified but also deep and rumbly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

 

Still trying to cover myself, I scramble to grab my dress and back up to the bathroom.

 

“Washing my neck,” I answer, nervously, boobs swaying with my erratic movements.
Eyes still covered, he keeps his back toward me but straightens up. “Washing your neck? Is that code for some kind of weird Key West thing?”

 

I back into the bathroom and make quick attempt of putting my dress over my head and righting it so everything is covered up. Hair still damp as well as my body, I step out into the room and clear my throat, dress sticking to my damp skin. “No, it’s not code for anything. I really had to wash my neck.”

 

“And you chose my room to do that in, because . . .”

 

Bending down, I shove my dirty clothes in my bag and zip up, giving Mr. Wilder the heads-up that I’m dressed. At least he’s a gentleman . . .

 

When he turns around, he eyes me up and down, his gaze curious and heated when he sees just how hard my nipples are from the cold shower . . . and the unexpected peep show.

 

“I didn’t choose your room to take a shower in.” I move my suitcase to the floor and pull up the handle. “The hotel gave me the key to this room by mistake, and since I had puke on my neck from the airplane—long story—I decided to take a quick shower while I waited for my room. I apologize for taking up your space, but I think we’re skipping an important detail here.” I cock my hand on my hip. “You saw me naked.”

 

“No, I didn’t,” he retorts rather quickly, despite the slow grin that spreads across his face.
I’m calling bullshit. “You totally saw my boobs.”

 

“I really didn’t. Your scream scared the shit out of me. I didn’t have enough time to see anything before you covered up.”

 

Eyeing him suspiciously, I ask, “You promise you didn’t see anything?”
“Promise.”

 

Hmm. “Okay, because being hotel neighbors and all, that would be extremely awkward if you saw me naked.”

 

“Good thing I didn’t then.” He rocks back on his heels, hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do. Finally he reaches out to the desk next to him and holds up his black Ray Bans. “Just needed my sunglasses.”

 


 

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

 

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

 

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

 

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

 

Facebook | Follow on Goodreads | Website 

Amazon Author Page | Instagram | Follow on BookBub

 

 

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text 2018-03-01 13:01
Excerpt Reveal - Playing His Way

SBPRBanner-PlayingHisWay-ER

 

Playing His Way, an all-new sexy standalone from Erika Wilde is coming March 13th!

 

PlayingHisWay-Ebook-Amazon

 

HE'S READY TO PLAY . . . ARE YOU?

 

As the new owner of The Players Club, Brent "Mac" MacMillan is all about dirty sex, wicked sin and carnal pleasure . . . served up his way.  After being burned in the past, he's always been careful to choose experienced females who enjoy submitting to his dark desires, and are willing to play by his demanding rules without expecting any emotional attachments in return.

 

Hiring beautiful interior designer Stephanie Randall to create fantasy bedrooms within his club is his first mistake.  She's curious, flirtatious, and makes his blood run hotter than it ever has before.  Innocent when it comes to all the debauchery his sinful world has to offer, she wants to take a walk on the wild side . . . with him.  

 

His second mistake?  Saying yes.  And his third?  Falling for the one woman he knows he can never have.

 

 

 

 

 

Excerpt:

 

Stephanie strolled toward Mac, a mischievous glimmer suddenly brightening her gorgeous blue eyes, putting him on alert.  "I'd like to attend the Masquerade party at The Players Club on Saturday, to get a better feel for the club and what other fantasy elements might work for your members."

 

     He stiffened at her unexpected request.  The temptation of having her in this domain—wanting her but refusing to touch her—wasn't something he wanted to endure.  And watching her possibly hook up with someone else, like Rick?  Complete fucking agony.

 

 

     He shook his head.  "I don't think attending the Masquerade party is necessary.  I'm sure you can come up with a few other ideas without being here when everything is in full swing, which is probably going to be more distracting, than helpful."

 

 

     "What if I want to be here?" the little vixen proposed, her voice holding a hint of a challenge.  "You know, to mix a little business with pleasure?"

 

 

     His expression remained composed, his resolve, firm.  "I'm going to have to say no."

 

 

     She tipped her head to the side, studying him much too astutely.  "I can always get an invitation from Jillian, you know," she said as she came closer and closer.

 

 

     "No, you can't," he countered.  "I put a freeze on any new invitations until I'm done going through the current membership."

 

 

     She laughed softly, huskily, the sound like a stroke along his cock.  Much like her hand was suddenly stroking down the length of his tie before giving it a playful tug.  "Do I make you nervous, Mac?"

 

 

     His hands curled into fists in his pockets, because it was taking extreme effort not to grasp her face in his palms and kiss that soft, plush, impudent mouth of hers—hot and hard and deep.  "Do I look like a man who'd be intimidated by any woman?" he asked, his voice surprisingly steady.

 

 

     She thought about that for a brief moment before giving her hair a subtle toss and replying.  "Intimidated, no."  Then a sexy, knowing smile curved her lips.  "Nervous, definitely, because if you weren't a little uneasy about whatever this thing is between us, you wouldn't have an issue with me coming to the Masquerade party and being at the club."

 

 

     "The last thing you make me feel is uneasy."  Instead, her presence had lust pumping through him like a heady surge of adrenaline.  She was certainly testing his control.

 

 

     Her free hand came back up and splayed on his chest, the heat of her touch searing him through his dress shirt.  "If I don't make you nervous, then prove it," she cajoled.  "Let me come to the party on Saturday.  I promise not to be too shocked by what I see."

 

 

     His jaw clenched as she met his gaze and held it, so bold and brazen when she really had no idea what she was messing with, or what he was capable of.  This woman was no shrinking violet, and she was the furthest thing from the kind of  submissive, obedient female he preferred—and Jesus, Christ, his dick was hard as stone for her.  This was a woman who liked having the advantage, who enjoyed a little power play, and fuck if that didn't make him want to pin her against the wall behind her and make it very clear who really had the upper hand between them.

 

 

     "So, what will it be, Mr. MacMillan?" she murmured huskily.  "Inviting me to the club on Saturday, or are you going to chicken out?"

 

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ErikaWilde

About Erika:

 

Erika Wilde (aka Janelle Denison) is the USA Today bestselling author of over 50 contemporary romances for multiple print publishers.

 

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